


God Help My People

by orphan_account



Series: God Help the Outcasts [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, M/M, god help the outcasts, teenage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though Dean has basically told Castiel to bugger off, the angel is not yet finished with the two Winchesters</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Help My People

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so you guys are still reading this, huh? Thank you all so much, hopefully you're all loving this I know I am. See you in Chapter 5 (just wait for Chapter 6, you guys will love it)

An aroma of fresh pancakes wavered through the air, filling the motel room with a homey and welcoming sensation. Suddenly, the cracked walls were a sign of nostalgia. The slanted floors part of the charm. It was a new day.

Dean rolled out of bed, checking the time. 10:01 burned in bright, neon crimson numbering. He groaned, and kicked his feet over the side, forcing himself out of bed. He walked over into the kitchen, trying to find the source of them scent. Instead, he found a shirtless man, flipping pancakes with a huge grin on his face. He had dark, black hair and sad blue eyes, hidden behind his grin. There were strange marks all over his torso, which captured Dean's full attention.

“Nice—er—tattoos you got there. You wanna tell me where you got 'em, and why the hell you're in my hotel room?” 

The man instantly stopped flipping, and gracefully reached for a white dress shirt, sliding it over his arms, but not bothering to button it up. “Hello Dean,” responded a deep, gravelly voice. “Apologies, you must not have been expecting this.” He motioned his hands up and down around his body, which Dean couldn't help but compliment the curves of. He was pretty cut for a burglar. 

“Yeah great, but see that doesn't answer either of my questions, douche-bag.” The man stared, his voice too strong for his young face and body. His eyes looked as if he had seen the deepest secrets of humanity itself.

“Of course. What do you wish to know?”

Dean's mouth dropped in disbelief. “I've been trying to tell you what I want. Who are you, and why the hell are you here?”

“My name is Castiel and I am here to help, you hardly need to worry Dean. Not all people are bad. I simply came here, because I was told to. I am merely following orders.” Castiel began to walk over to the hunter, until they were less than a foot apart from one another. Dean could feel his soft—almost forced—breaths touch his neck. Castiel's forehead must've been an inch lower than Dean's at most, but apart from that they were practically identical in physical form. Same weight, same size, same age. 

Dean scoffed, trying not to get lost in the other man's eyes. I'm not even gay dammit. “Help? Oh that's rich. 'Cause you know, everyone who has ever tried to 'help' me was either trying to get into my pants, or my dad's. But I'll leave that up to your vivid imagination, Castiel.”

“Dean? Who are you talkin' to?” Sam moaned, rubbing crusts out of his fluttering eyes. “Where's Cassie? Did she leave without sayin' bye?”

Castiel simply watched Dean, making no move to say anything to the young boy walking around in regular clothes rather than pajamas, like any other child his age. He watched Dean try to begin several different sentences, occasionally glancing back over at him. And he had to admit, it was peaceful.

Dean attempted a smile, kneeling down to Sam's height after looking back at Cas one more time. “Hey Sammy, have a good sleep?”

“Pfft, no. Motel beds are all the same—cheap and crappy. The floor is comfier. Where's Cassie?”

“Listen Sam, Cassie had to go. She didn't belong here, she was one of them. But this is Castiel, he apparently thinks he can help.”

Sam beamed, excitement running through his body as he ran to hug the new stranger. Castiel paused, as if buffering what he had to do next, before letting a hand rest on the eleven year old's head. “I knew you'd come.” Sam whispered to him. 

“I assure you—”

“Castiel, like the archangel right? I asked for you, and you came. Thank you.” Sam glanced up at him, his eyes wide and hopeful, the look of a child learning about Santa for the first time. 

Dean's eyes widened as he immediately stood up, pulling Sam away from Castiel, giving him time to button up his shirt. “Sammy, I thought I told you not to say things like that.”

“That was before you told me, though.” Sam watched Dean hopefully, waiting for the familiar rush of a cool hand whipping across his face, sending a gush of blood up to the spot. It was what happened whenever John got too angry with either him or Dean. By now, they were both used to it. 

However, Dean just merely shook his head, looking disgusted with himself after staring at his raised hand. Instead, he let simply grabbed Sam's shoulders, and pulled him close. 

Castiel stood in place, watching the boys hold each other, both holding back tears. “If you don't mind, I'd like to discuss some things with you, Sam.” 

“Dean,” Sam grumbled into his brother's shoulders. “Dean,” He sighed, “Dean, can you let go now?” 

The thing about Dean Winchester was that, his whole life he had done nothing but live up to his Dad's expectations towards everything. His hunting trips, his revenge and cause, his wardrobe, his language, he even adapted John's walk. The only thing Dean could never understand, was John's disappointment towards Sam. In any other family, in any other household, a boy with straight A grades was loved and held close in everyone's heart. When it came to the Winchesters, a boy with straight A grades was frowned upon, and disapproved of. 

There was never a day that passed when John was home, that there wouldn't be a fight that would break out before Sam and him. Meanwhile, Dean would be out with some meaningless girl, trying not to think about the punishments Sam was facing at the same moment. A child at barely eleven should not have to yell at his father for teaching him how to hold a rifle properly, or for hesitating to stab some seemingly innocent person. 

True, Dean would be present majority of the time, and whenever a heartbreaking smack echoed throughout the room, Dean's eyelids would flutter, and they would blink back tears, as he watched his brother run over to him to rush into his arms. Dean had vowed to never hurt Sam the way he had seen his father do time and time again without mercy or hesitation.

 

“Sorry Sammy, I'm so sorry.” Dean whispered, letting go of his brother. “Just, promise me you won't trust this guy too much? I don't trust him.”

Though the words had been whispered into Sam's ear, Castiel twitched, an unknown feeling rushing through his body in confusion. 

“Come along, Sam.” He muttered, taking the boy's hand and leading him outside. “We've much to discuss.”

___________________________

The two sat outside the room again, sitting on the same bench from the previous night, both thinking of what to say first.

“So, you're an angel right?” 

Castiel turned to Sam, whose eyes were wide in hope and amazement. In awe and wonder. The angel said nothing for a while, going over his words and wondering how such a small boy knew so much of the world, that grown adults could not wrap their minds around. 

The hunter sat in silence, watching Castiel and analyzing his every move, every thought. There was so much excitement coursing throughout his body, he could feel his heart racing. 

“Sam, I wanted to talk with you about Dean. That's my purpose here, that is what I was sent here to do.” Cas nodded along with his own words, making sure they sounded right.

Sam meanwhile, creased his eyebrows together, and pouted. “Why? Why do angels care so much 'bout us?” 

“Protect Dean Winchester I was told. Save him. I do not question my orders, Sam, nor do I ever wish to. You may have your ways of discovering information, while I have my own. I wish for you to tell me about your brother, and his safety.”

The boy said nothing for a while, only watch Cas. Before in the room, he felt no fear or threat from him, but now he could barely catch his breath, or even steady his shaking hand. There was something about being alone with this total stranger that striked terror into Sam's mind. 

By now the sky had changed from a timid blue to the colour of mold, with various different colours swirling around along the edges and middle of the gray. A storm was coming, and John had yet to reveal any information regarding his current whereabouts. 

“Dean's been hurtin' hisself a lot, I think. He goes into the bathroom, and makes hisself bleed. He's beginnin' to scare me. I just wanna be normal. Can you make us a normal family?”

Cas watched Sam's lower lip quiver as he muttered the finishing sentence. “You must understand that though my powers may be great, I do not have the capability to make your family a nor—”

“B-but you're an angel! You can do anything!” 

“Sam, please I—”

“You're such a robot! You ask if my brother's safe, and then once you find the truth you push it aside an' ignore it!” The brunette quickly rose up, running inside the hotel room and slamming the door behind him, and locking it. He glanced over at his bed, and tried to hold back his tears, he didn't want to bother Dean with his meaningless 'sob stories'. Instead, he grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around himself, then proceeding to hide under the bed. From underneath the cobwebbed springs, he could see a jolly rancher wrapper, a (used?) condom, a few dead bugs, and then in the middle of the hallway, a pair of shoes attached to a pair of legs covered in navy dress pants, that he couldn't recall ever belonging to Dean or his father.

You'd think an angel would be able to open a locked door, Sam thought to himself. 

“Dean, I require your attention.” Castiel said in a monotone, knocking on the bathroom door. From inside the bathroom, Sam could hear the shower running, which was a huge relief from Dean's quiet whimpers in the dark.

From in the shower, Sam could hear various grunting noises and Dean struggled to hear Castiel over the running water. 

“What?!” 

“Dean, I requi—”

“Just come in for a minute!” 

The bathroom door then creaked open, and the shoes quickly vanished into the room. It was silent for a few long moments, except Sam's heavy breathing, when all of a sudden there was an echoing scream from the washroom.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing? Get the fuck out!” Dean yelled. Over and over Sam could hear bits and pieces of Castiel saying something about heaven, and god and Lucifer, though he couldn't quite understand why that'd be important right now. He still couldn't understand how Dean wasn't pulling a huge scene of his usual 'angels aren't real' argument. However, if Castiel really was an angel, he was probably one of the biggest disappointments Sam had ever experienced in his life. 

A few moments later, there was a rush of scattering footsteps practically falling from the bathroom, as the shoes stood in front of the bed. 

Castiel huffed, allowing himself to sit down on the nearby couch, looking for some article of clothing that he could wear as a shirt—if Dean was embarrassed about people seeing his body in all it's glory, Castiel thought he should probably react in the same way. He glanced around the room, spying a piece of dark green material over to the side of an unmade bed. 

He recognized it as one of Dean's shirts, after all he had been watching the boy for such a long time, he could list of every thing he has ever worn for the past year without giving it a second thought. 

He grabbed the shirt and felt it in his hands, it was a bit damp and wrinkled, but apart from that Cas voted it wearable. As he tugged it over himself, he tried not to be entirely hypnotized with the smell of Dean's body imprinted all over the shirt. A hint of alcohol mixed in with the smell of hotel—that sort of nice musty smell that makes you feel at home. That makes anyone feel at home really, and in this case it was the angel who longed to be back by his family's side. 

He breathed in the scent, smiling softly as he watched the fabric fall over his skin. The size wasn't too different, Cas was only a little bit smaller than Dean, but apart from that it fit like a glove. 

Suddenly, the bathroom door clicked open, and Dean emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, as he combed his wet hair back with his hand. “Listen here, I don't give a rat's ass if you're president, you do not—wh-what are you doing with my shirt?” 

Cas smiled down at himself, before glancing back up at the hunter with a lazy grin. “I'm wearing it.” 

“No, you're stealing it, is what you're doin'.” 

“My apologies. If you wish to have it back I shall obey.” In a single motion, the angel began to lift the shirt over his head flashing Dean a clean set of abs. 

Dean simply gawked, trying to find his voice to try to tell Cas to stop, but it simply wouldn't comply. 

Castiel now held the shirt in his hand, with an innocent expression on his face. He watched Dean with confusion, unsure of how the human was responding. Cas thought that Dean wanted his shirt back, and he tried to grant his wish. Now it seemed as if Dean wanted so much more. His eyes grew darker in an expression Castiel was not familiar with, and his lips were opened partially. 

Slowly, Sam crawled out from underneath the bed, his quilt still tight around him. His eyes widened as he surveyed the scene, two teenage boys standing shirtless in front of one another, one of the two looking at the other as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat. 

Dean whirled around, his cheeks flushed. “Sam, where've you been?”

“I—” The boy glanced over at Castiel, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don't trust him, Dean. He'll betray us.” 

Cas held eye contact with Sam, watching his movements and reading his thoughts. On most cases he would try not to use telepathy on humans, but he was told about Sam Winchester, he was told what a prodigy he would be, what an important key role he'd play in the final battle, between heaven and hell. Sam Winchester was probably the most important human on the earth, and his brother was no different. 

“Is that true, Cas?” Dean glared at the dark haired teen. 

“What you need to understand Dean, is that I am no demon, nor being of hell, nor being you have ever come across. I am not here for an evil purpose, I am here to protect you.” Castiel glanced back over to Sam. “Both of you.” 

“Oh yeah? So what the hell are you? Because let me tell you somethin'. Sam and I have seen things you wouldn't dream of. If you ain't one of them, then what demonic creature are you?” Dean pulled Sam in close, watching Cas with a new look—apparently Dean Winchester had a lot of different looks—and waiting eagerly for a reply.

In the meanwhile, Castiel just simply laughed. Not a full laugh, nor a giggle. Just a simple 'ha-ha'. “Quite the contrary actually. I'm an angel of the lord.”

There was silence for a while. Cas stared at the brothers blankly, mostly at Dean, while they just stood there ground, watching the angel without blinking. All of their life, they were told about angels, and while Sam believed them almost to the extent of them being as real as demons, Dean thought of them as nothing but a simple myth. Along with mermaids, minotaurs, and hobbits. As for god, well Dean was as far from Christianity as humanly possible. 

Slowly, Dean began to laugh, clapping his hands together. Apparently, he found this whole situation hilarious. “An angel? As in giant, fluffy white wings? As in heaven, and god? Listen buddy, you may as well tell me that your name is Ariel and you live in the big blue sea.”

“I don't understand what you find so funny about this. My father created you, how do you not hold faith to him? Also, I don't know who Ariel is, but my name is Cast—”

Dean stared at him blankly. “Yeah, we know who you are. But really? Angels? Sorry, the insane asylum is down the next road.” 

Castiel began to slowly puff himself up, attempting to make his vessel look bigger than a mere scrawny teenager. He took two steps towards Dean, until he was only an inch away from the hunter's face. “I am not in need of an asylum for the mentally insane. You lack faith, and you suffer from trust issues, I do not wish to harm you, Dean. Lying to you would be pointless. If I wanted to betray either of you, both of you would be deceased.”

Sam began to break into a smile. “So you really are an angel, then? You admit it? You can help us then! Just like you said you wanna.”

Neither of the teens spoke, instead they both just stood their ground, their arms held at their sides and their backs straight. This was going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
